American lady living in Kuwait commenting on daily occurrances through her warped perspective. Her travels take us beyond the boundaries of normalcy.
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Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I can’t believe how things have changed – for the worse – during the National and Liberation Day holidays. I don’t understand how it could have gone from families celebrating national freedom and patriotism (especially THIS year as it is the FIRST year with Saddam gone) to a carnival of teenaged boys terrorizing the streets. It is no longer a national holiday, but a national disgrace.

This was my last holiday on the Gulf Road. We went out on 2 separate occasions and only for an hour each time. That was enough. There were just too many acts of aggression and downright meanness. Senseless acts of meanness. There was no fun. Gangs of roaming young men (lets just call them “hoodlums” because that’s what they were) ran up to cars, pulling on door handles trying to get in (not just ours - but families in other cars). Most of the people seemed shocked and "on alert", and didn’t appear to be having fun. Our own car was rocked by a group of about 10 hoodlums trying to get in. We didn’t have foam. We didn’t even make eye contact. They kicked the doors, they scratched the paint, they shouted obscenities. The police had no way of controlling the crowds; most looked on with disgusted expressions; many of the older guys shaking their heads in disappointment.

These young guys obviously have not been taught right from wrong by their parents (or anyone else). Perhaps they don’t know their own history; how happy their parents, grandparents, and relatives were when Kuwait was finally free in 1991. Perhaps these boys were traumatized by the atrocities that occurred during the months of the occupation and are now dealing with the after-affects. Whatever it was, they were out these past few nights for the wrong reasons.

I have heard that hair removal foam was used in place of the “fun” foam. I further heard that both urine and bleach were used (separately) in the super soaker water guns (as such were confiscated by police). It has gone from fun to malicious criminal intent.

The Kuwait Times reported an incident where a teenage boy opened the rear door of a 4x4 and molested a young girl while her father was at the wheel. The outraged father jumped out of his car and beat the boy in the street. What would you do if in the same situation? I wouldn’t give it a second thought; the kid would be hamburger.

I noticed that as soon as the sun went down, all the women on the streets went home. The cars were all full of families of mostly boys. I couldn’t blame them one bit. It wasn’t safe.

What defense do the police have against these gangs? Rubber bullets, tear gas, water hoses? There has got to be better crowd control than what went on the past few days. If the police can disburse a crowd of demonstrators with truck-mounted water cannons (lets say 3rd-world, hungry workers who haven’t been paid their salaries in six months) then they certainly can stop a bunch of hyped up malicious teenagers committing crimes during patriotic events. Regardless of the nationality, these boys are terrorizing people and it is getting worse.

The authorities should just ban the sale of (and use of) foam all together. It just isn’t worth it. How many people were actually hospitalized? There are no statistics – as usual. This year, it was urine, bleach, and hair removal foam; what will it be next year? Knives?

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

I have been reminded lately to do nice things for people. I really try always to help if someone asks me. As an ENFJ ("giver") personality, I'm kinda prone towards this behavior.

I was reminded of my very favorite poem and what to do with it:

"Each minute, day and year is given to us once only. Then it is gone forever. God gives you and everyone but one appearance on the stage of life. Reflect then on these lines by Etienne de Grellet:

“I shall pass through this life but once.Any good, therefore, that I can doOr any kindness I can show to any fellow creature,Let me do it now.Let me not defer or neglect it.For I shall not pass this way again.”

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I am uprooted. I sold my Stealth this morning I feel so weirdly depressed. It has been with me for 8 years. 8 years of fun: of donuts in the desert; of boys chasing us; of us out-driving boys to the point where they gave up after endless laps around roundabouts and mall parking lots; of maniacal driving on the way to/from chalets, camps and farms; of getting stuck in sand and looking pitiful until help arrived; of little kids saying how pretty she was; 8 years of rebellious anti-traditional female behavior in a fast, flashy car. 8 years of refusing to sell her to anyone. 7 years of arguing with my father on why I should keep her. 8 years of up-shifting, down-shifting, and replacements of tires. 8 years of looking for parts in Amghara and praying for just one more original wheel rim or part. … Now, she’s gone.

People like my sister think I’m strange for attaching emotions to material things. For some, it is difficult not to. That car was with me for most of my life spent in Kuwait. I bought her from a good friend who took meticulous care. She was my constant – always there, always dependable, always admired by others. Through good times and bad. Through sick and through sin.

The Kuwaiti brothers who bought her promised to stop by and let me visit with her; telling me how they plan for modifications. One of the brothers is a mechanical engineer; another is an auto mechanic. They have had and have loved other Stealths. She’ll have a good home. She won’t go to scrap or to someone who will cannibalize her for parts. I just feel totally deflated. I love that car, but after so long, the upkeep was just too much. I have much less time than I used to; life has become too complicated and I had neglected her.

I quickly transferred the money back to the States, so I wouldn’t know it was here and have to compare the price to a life of a car (or a lifestyle in this case). Ok, let me be honest - or so as not to buy more shoes!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

I am going to look for a new car tonight. My lease is up on my Envoy and I’m selling the Babemobile. I didn’t want to take out a 2 year lease on a car because every year, I think I am going to move back to the States (ha ha, as if). I still feel that way.

Although, I think I would miss things like my bidet too much. Who would have thunk it? Let’s be practical, shall we? I’ve been here ten years; I’ve assimilated, integrated, “crossed-over” if you will. I love my bidet. I love the water hoses. I just don’t get that fresh, clean feeling without them. It is just too difficult in the States (without going into details). Oh yeah – there are other things that I would miss too: my friends, the men, the sea, the men, the machboos, the men, little or no utility payments, cheap gas, men, the desert, camels, men, being a blonde in an Islamic country, my friends, men.

I don’t know how I am going to sell my sports car. I won’t have a manual transmission gear stick to feel like I am empowered. I won’t be able to race little boys (in the same fashion as they look at the car with envy – aka “hot eyes”). I’ve got a 325i in the US. I know what it is capable of. I can easily take any little beemer boy driving my Stealth. I think that it is the last twin turbo in the country right now; which is why it scares the bejezuz out of me to drive it with no parts available and a bulls-eye painted on it (invisible -- but painted by destructive jinnis). Anyhooo (heavy sigh), the time has come to part ways.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Yesterday, I went to Azayez (Sheikh Ali’s farm) in Abdali. The weather on the way up was gorgeous, but on the way home, there was so much dust that it looked like snow. OMG – I have never driven in dust so bad (at 180kph); It was freakish. I broke my Salmiya to Abdali record: 45 minutes. Anyhoo, we had a great day eating steak and shrimp and lobster and basically frolicking. I got a sunburn (ouchies), but it was worth it. There was a little political discussion going on over lunch, and so I ran away to play with deers (I don’t care if “deers” is grammatically wrong. I like it and you can’t argue with a sick mind.). Anyhoo, it was a Friday and I don’t do politics on Fridays (the discussion was not in favor of what I would like to see achieved, so it just served to piss me off). I wanted to play with camels, but the dust was kindof bad out there.

I went to see Fishgirl and Bobarino in the hospital last night with Bunny (about half an hour after driving back from Abdali). He hadn’t visited her and felt bad about it, so we went while she is still there recuperating from her Valentine’s Day knee surgery. (Some men give flowers – Bobarino gives knee surgery.) I went with Bunny to Buffalos to get hubungous hamburgers and wings (yes, after all the food at Azayez! Look, once your stomach is stretched, you might as well forget it because you are going to be hungry for the rest of the day. I’m back on my “diet” today.)

Hopefully, Bunny is going to sell my car for me. He knows it inside and out and loves it like I do, but alas, the time has come to (seriously this time) part ways with it. I’ve got 2 buyers who think that I’m a blonde pushover (am not, Purgy!) and that they can bargain the price down (as if). I’m going to let Bunny take over from here. I think one guy will get it within the next few days – a young Kuwaiti guy who can actually afford the upkeep (rather than the Honda Civic-driving young potential buyer from Shaam who was worried about the price of tires and wants to buy it “just to race”. Racing costs money; especially with the modifications that need to be done to my car.). My motto: If you can’t afford it, don’t buy it. I can say with a certain degree of honesty that that motto can hold true in several aspects of my life; not just my car.

It was a nice weekend, but kind of strange at the same time. Not at all what I expected.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Here’s what women hate: being called or SMSed at 8:00 pm on Valentine’s evening by a guy who is supposed to care about you to ask, “Whatcha doin?” That is just plain phucked up. If dude hasn’t noticed the red hearts, the teddy bears, the bagazillion florist shops with flowers lined up and down the street. . . something is just WRONG. Here is my question to dude: What do you THINK I’m doing???? Obviously, this is someone who just doesn’t give a rats-furry-ass about me (and most likely does about someone else), but still…. How could it be possible to be that incredibly thoughtless? And yet, oddly, it seemed to rattle his cage that I was out somewhere. Everybody I know makes plans weeks in advance on Valentine's Day (even if they plan to stay home). The whole country was outside last night at 8:00!!! Couples were everywhere. Love was in the air. They call it the “day of love” not the “day of bullshit”. In the US, it is as important as senior prom. Like New Year's Eve: You just don’t call up that night sayin, “Whatcha doin?” Noooooooooooooooooooooo.

And just when I thought he had redeemed himself last week. My bad.

I sent flowers to my girlfriends yesterday (and my mom) who I knew would probably not get flowers from other people (MEN) – and not just the regular ones either: the big, heart-shaped over-the-top kind (the kind I would like to get). I got all the women in my office candy. (I have found that is really a great way to get the office bitches to do things for you all year long.) Then, the stupid men in my office started asking, “Where’s mine.” At which point I ask, “Inta sej Kuwaiti?”

Bunny took The Romanian and I to dinner (oh my – plans in advance!) at Sakura which (Purgy this is for you) was the worst dining experience I have ever had anywhere. It looked like a goat rodeo: waiters and waitresses running all over the place – and yelling at each other; customers complaining (some very loudly) because they weren’t getting their food or their checks. We were there for 2 ½ hours - and I have wastah there. All of this – and they charged a set menu holiday price of 16 kd per person. Bunny was so cool about all of it. He didn’t go Bedouin on anyone. He was in a great mood the entire time. The Romanian hadn’t seen him in a long time and we had a lot of catching up to do. I’ve missed Bunny. We had a very romantic dinner three-some going on which several men there seemed to envy tremendously. tee hee.

When I got home from work yesterday, someone had left a single red rose on my doorstep. I knew it had to be from my friend, Jamal. He never fails to remember Valentine’s day by leaving something small (and THOUGHTFUL) for me. We have been friends for forever and ever and ever. I hardly ever see him – maybe once every year or something – but he is one of those people who is always there like an angel. There are never any expectations – just little acts of kindness. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

I have a very busy weekend – lots of invitations – and I’m already anticipating the chapatti and eggs on my way home from the camp in Julai’a at 5:30 am tomorrow (only to go to another camp in Abdali at 11:30 am). I love this time of year. There is so much to do.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

It had been a few years since we had talked. The last time I saw him, he was off to find out about post-graduate studies in Texas. I moved to Kuwait. He was always someplace I wasn’t.

I went to Dubai for a training course. It was February 13th when I arrived at the hotel. I finally fell asleep after a late flight and difficult travel. I planned to call him the next day; Valentine’s Day wishes were my excuse for calling him after so long.

That night I dreamt he was next to me. I could see his face vividly in front of me. I could smell his cologne. He took my hand and told me that the days he spent with me were the happiest of his life.

I woke up feeling strange and I called his mobile number in the afternoon. It was disconnected. I tried his private line at home. It too was disconnected. I gave in and called his father’s business. His uncle answered the phone and told me that Shamlan was dead of a “heart attack”. He was 36.

It couldn’t be. I thought they were lying to me. I thought it was some kind of a dark trick. I called our mutual friends from years ago. It hadn’t been a heart attack, but something more brutal and questionable.

Then I remembered the dream. He had given me the best Valentine’s gift on the worst Valentine’s Day of my life: He was the happiest when he had been with me.

Monday, February 12, 2007

I haven’t been sleeping well. I don’t know what is wrong with me (lacko’nookie) but I wake up constantly (lacko’nookie) and I’m having weird dreams (lacko’nookie) all night long. I’m also kind of feverish (lacko’nookie) and when I wake up, my hair looks like I actually got some nookie – all witchy and scary looking. And yet, sadly, I have nothing to be happy about looking that way. Sigh.

Speaking of scary, there is a certain man that I know who is scared silly of me. I know the irrational paranoid-schizophrenic delusions his mind has created to justify it all, yet still – why the antics? BOO! One of my Kuwaiti girlfriends told me that I make men nervous because I have a strong personality (‘Say my NAME, bitch!’). If they only knew. Anyhoo, this man won’t come within a mile of me now and I believe it is because he is afraid of upsetting the she-devil. He will wish I was there after whatever the Bedu psychic foretold will happen in June of 2008.

Last night was Bobarino’s birthday bash at Sakura (the home of the BEST sushi in Kuwait). I was really hungry and yet I didn’t feel well. We had a good time even though there were no male strippers or alcohol. Bummer.

Speaking of strippers… I can’t believe Anna Nicole is gone! I loved her. Ok, so she was a train wreck, but she was such a slice of Americana. What a tragedy. Did you see the way her boobs stuck up when they wheeled her into the morgue on the gurney? Do you think they had a special celebrity red chenille blanket to drape famous-people bodies in? Anyways, I seriously feel a loss because I loved to find out what was happening in her life. I feel remorseful whenever another blonde with big boobs passes away (unless they live in Kuwait and then I’m not so remorseful because there are just too many of them here now).

VALENTINE’S DAY!!! I LOVE Valentine’s Day. Next to my birthday, it is my very favorite holiday. I love all things Valentine. Love it, love it, love it. I used to get nice, sentimental gifts on Valentine’s day. I suppose those days are gone. (Heavy sigh, pain in my heart.) Ree-ru (ancient history fiancé) gave me a very cool bunny holding a heart one year with ears that moved back and forth and a nose that wiggled. I love bunnies. I think that was the most amazing, thoughtful thing; and so cheap and simple. See, that’s just it – big things are nice to receive, but simple thoughtful things stay in your heart/mind. It wasn’t the jewelry, the cars, the trips, the money… it was that damn bunny that I still have in my sister’s basement that I remember the most.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

How many times can a girl possibly hear, “But I loff you”. (“Loff” is the Bedouin word for “love”. In fact, most words with a “v” can be pronounced “f” and it will sound Beduonics). Anyhoo, this week, it was dude who wants a loff relationship, but “I can only see you on Friday evenings – and early – because the rest of the week, I have to work two shifts and on the weekends I have the diwaniya and my kids.” So, he’d better have a lot of money and a big willy, right? Uh, I know the negative response on part 1 of our question and part 2 is only a hypothesis, but I am 99.9999% sure. Friday evenings… huh… I don’t think so. Maybe if I’m really really bored and there is a big, fat, juicy steak involved (interpret that any way you like).

This weekend was totally boring. I slept through most of it and it wasn’t even a good alcohol-induced slumber either. The weather was nice. I went out yesterday with The Romanian and Desert Dog for a sandwich next to the sea (Fresh Mango near Souq Sharq will allow me to sit in peace with Desert Dog).

I decided to send some dirty SMSs to a “friend” who has been sniffing around (bow wow wow) – not for a relationshit or even a friendshit, but just for sex. I wasn’t serious, but I just wanted to be a beeotch and get him all hot and bothered and leave him hanging. Apparently, it worked. I slept really comfortably; I doubt seriously that he did. I know – it was mean, but I couldn’t help it. I needed a little payback. I mean, guys always want to you to talk all sexy and dirty and then when they get it, they can’t go to sleep. Why IS that???? (Yes, my halo is blinding me!)

Why is it that men in this country (everywhere?) spend 98% of their time trying to get IN THERE and no one has figured out that the shortest distance from point A to point B is a straight line? I mean, just be honest, dumbass p*&sy hunters! Say it like it is. Why all the irrational BS lines that we can see right through? I mean, unless you are a teenage girl, chances are that most women have HEARD all the lines (I know I have) and our ears are highly sensitive bullshit detectors: we know it, we interpret it, we kick it out. (Maybe that’s why all the retards in their 40’s marry young girls.) Now, if a guy is honest, at least he will stand a better chance. If he’s got nothing to offer, he’s obviously not going to get any PERIOD, but at least if he’s honest, that is something.

The Man (oh love of my life, the guy that I will love through eternity… etc, etc – read on because he deserves nice sentiment right now.) sent me pink roses this week. Damn if he didn’t full-out surprise me. He knew I felt down one night this week and he just did it to be nice. He didn’t bring them up to me – he sent them. So, that guy isn’t really dead at all; he is somewhere in there. Of course, he got sick right after with the flu because THE WICKED WITCH put some kind of evil spell on him and every time he does something kind to me, she gets him. One day, a house will fall on her and then Dorothy will get her ruby red slippers…. Anyhoo… I digress. It was a nice thing for him to do and I needed it that night because a friend hurt my feelings.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope that they panic and give in.

I’ve learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just assholes.

I’ve learned that it takes years to build up trust, an it only takes suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.

I’ve learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you’d better have a big willy or huge boobs.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others – they are more screwed up than you think.

I’ve learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you’re finished.

I’ve learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities.

I’ve learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be a lot of money to take its place!

I’ve learned that 99% of the time when something isn’t working in your house, one of your kids did it.

I’ve learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away.

I did something really mean to someone the other day and I am afraid that my karma is going to get me. I meant to do something good, but it turned into something evil (I was provoked) and now I feel bad. I wish I could find the person (ok the headless body) and apologize, but alas – it is too late. I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have made the remark that I did. (No The Man – I’m not talking about you, but I am kind of sorry I was so mean to you too. Kind of. Well, a little. Bygones.)They are off-loading frickin COWS today in front of my office. Yes, I work in a damn jakhoor (not, The Man – that DOES remind me of you – tee hee! Yaaaaaaaa Jakhoorness!). Anyways, you guessed it… my office smells like bullshit. Not only do I have to wade through virtual bullshit every day, but then I come in and it actually SMELLS like it sounds!

I had a very nice dinner last night with the Romanian and some friends. They started talking about business and could I help them yada yada. People get so excited over talking about business. Not me. I want to eat and enjoy my time. The Romanian dropped one word on them: muslaha. I ate my butt (“duck” in Arabic – my GOD you people have dirty minds!) and didn’t say anything else about work.

Speaking of “butts” (the American version), there is a guy in my office who INSISTS on coming up to the management floor to use our bathroom before praying. I don’t know how he does it, but he makes such a frickin mess that yesterday, even the toilet bowl cleaner thingy that hangs on the rim of the toilet was on the floor. He disgusts me. He makes really loud throat-clearing noises and he must open all the water fixtures in the entire bathroom. What a pig. I mean, dude: clean up after yourself. I can’t even look at him the same because I wonder what his house looks like. Furthermore, he has one of those 80’s looking jerri-curls and he’s a white dude.

Tomorrow is Slapperellas birthday. I haven’t seen her lately because she is in (something) with a “real” Bedouin guy (I call him “Olive” because his name in Arabic sounds like the word for olive). You know what they say, “Once you go Bedouin, you never go anywhere.” Well, that is sooooooo true. J tee hee.

It is only Sunday and I’ve already had quite an interesting week – even though I am kind of sick again. WHERE ARE THE PINK ROSES????

About Me

American semi-Kuwaiti living, working, eating, boating, and observing in Kuwait. Born in America, but raised with Kuwaitis, I get culture shock on both continents. No one understands me, but my dog, and she still gives me strange looks once in a while.
I do not accept payment for advertising; I won't entertain the thought. If I think your product or service is worthy of discussion, I will post about it. If I help you, you can send me pink roses.
If you are interested in reading about the Bedoun cause in Kuwait, see my posts which are tagged "Bedoun Civil Rights Movement".

Life in the Desert

I danced in the desert,I swam by the shores, I spent warm nights under starlit blankets of silver,I made friends from far-away placesI ate and drank and savored it allI loved and was lovedWhat more could anyone ask for?